


An Autumn’s Tale of Hockey Rants and Undercuts

by alektheloris



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Autumn, Bastille - Freeform, Boston, Boston Bruins, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hockey, I don't know what else to tag this except that it's a cute and fluffy short fic, Lucid Dreaming, M/M, One Shot, Swearing, cute boyfriends, in which Jean is a baby and Marco puts up with him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-20 01:48:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2410532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alektheloris/pseuds/alektheloris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What could be cuter than an autumn date night in for Jean and Marco? Not much else when your boyfriend is a bombastic hockey fan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Autumn’s Tale of Hockey Rants and Undercuts

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a cute little one-shot. The lyrics featured at the beginning and end of this fic are not mine, but are from Bastille's incredible song "The Poet."

_“Your body lies upon the sheet,_

_Of paper and words so sweet._

_I can’t say the words,_

_So I wrote you into my verse…”_

 

*****

 

“Ugh Marco, can you puh-lease change the station,” Jean whined as he set his head back on his hands, sitting on the edge of Marco’s bathroom tub and a towel draped across his neck.

 

Marco stood from bending with the clippers in his hands and offered a cheery, “Nope! What, you don’t like Bastille?”

 

Jean rolled his eyes in his usual sarcastic manner. He knew he had to offset his occasional emotional gushiness when it came to Marco with some hardened sarcasm: it’s nice to have a good balance. “It’s not that I don’t _like_ them…it’s just not the right mood for it ya know?”

 

Laughing at Jean, Marco added, “Hey, I agreed to help re-shave your undercut, so _I_ get to choose the music this time.”

 

Jean feigned a pout, wanting to give Marco the impression of utmost annoyance at his music choices, however his mouth curled into a sly smile as he remarked at how hot his boyfriend was. Unf. “Mmmm I guess.”

 

Marco offered a swift kiss to Jean’s ear before clicking the clippers back into life to finish the job. “Thanks, babe.” Jean shivered as goose bumps ran the length of his body, and the shudder almost messed up Marco’s stroke.

 

“Hey haha what’s with you, do you want an even cut or not?”

 

“Sorry…just got chilly…just make sure it’s even, will ya?”

 

“Yeah yeah,” Marco smirked, pulling back Jean’s ear carefully as to not nip it with the razor.  “So who else are we having over tonight, eh?”

 

“For the game?’

 

Marco walked around to Jean’s other ear to finish the cut. “Yupp.”

 

“Hmmmm let’s see…” Jean ticked off a few of his fingers. “I was gonna invite Connie and Sasha, they’re back together you see, aaaaand also Levi, since he sucks at hockey shit-talking and I thought this would be a great opportunity to antagonize him while the Rangers were playing. And then I was thinking about Erwin, I mean if you invite either him or Levi, you gotta invite the other. Hanji, too, and Ymir, another raging Boston hockey fanatic. I mean aren’t we all.”

 

“Yes, okay Jean, but who out of all those people is actually _coming_?”

 

Jean looked up through his freshly groomed mop of hair and smiled a devilish smile. Marco knew that look: this would mean something either really good or really bad, and even being with Jean for two years now, he could never determine which. “None of them,” he said simply, still smiling.

 

Mouth downturned in clear confusion, Marco said, “Uhm what?”

 

“Hah, none of them. I thought we could have a cute little hockey date night for ourselves, just you, me, and the TV.”

 

Marco placed the clippers on the tub side cabinet and offered Jean a goofy and brilliant smile. “I can’t even handle you, you’re so fucking cute.” Jean returned the gesture with his puppy-dog like expression of eager eyes and pricked up ears that made Marco go crazy. Damn his adorable, horse-faced boyfriend.

 

Jean crinkled his brow in contemplation and Marco was surprised to the point of laughing that the words, “Marco, you don’t think I have a horse-looking face…do you?” came out of his mouth, as he’d only been thinking about teasing Jean a second beforehand.

 

Dealing Jean a reasonable pat on the head as he stood, Marco chuckled. “No Jean, of course not.”

 

 ***

“Hey toss me my jersey will ya?” Jean shouted into Marco’s bedroom later on, where he was certain Marco was undressing from the usual red and plum flannel he boasted on a lazy early-autumn Saturday.

 

He came out to Jean, #63 Marchand jersey in hand and tossed it at Jean’s cleanly shaven head.

 

“Gee thanks.” Jean replaced his beer on the table’s Sea Dog Brew coasters (he knew how Marco hated when he left water rings…) as he shoved the jersey over his head.

 

Marco sniffed. “Ya know, I’m surprised you don’t have Thorton’s…a muscle-guy, aggressive player like him seems more your taste, haha.”

 

Lips puckered in an unamused frown, Jean admitted, “I _used_ to have him too, but then the Bruins had to up and go trade him to the Florida Panthers…Christ above all the good players are peacing out these days…they just traded Boychuck too.”

 

“What??”

 

“Yeah I know, Marco. I’m bullshit.”

 

Marco didn’t know why, but he loved when Jean said his name. His intonation indicated a sensitive familiarity, an undertone of intimacy and of long, sunny days spent in Marco’s bed cuddling. Saying another’s name, for Marco, signified an affection and intimacy only close best friends and lovers would know, and he and Jean fell firmly into both categories.  Sweeping down to kiss Jean’s forehead, he murmered into his hair, “Hahaha I love when your raging hockey fanatic comes out.”

 

“And I love how _you_ love how I’m a crazy person and you _still_ decide to put up with me.”

 

“Haha you know you’re not gonna get rid of me, Jean. As much as you can be an annoying little whining baby sometimes, you’re hella fucking cute and I know you mean well.”

 

Jean looked up at him expectantly from the couch and reached up to kiss Marco, lingering for just a moment. He couldn’t argue with those points. The thing about Marco, he understood Jean to the fucking T without him having to say anything. He hated, and loved, the embarrassing transparence he emitted when around his freckled-face babe.

 

Jean pouted again. “I’m irresistible, too, right?” Marco teasingly pinched his cheek and waggled Jean’s face back and forth.

 

“You betcha!” Marco said as he winked and ran to buzz up the pizza delivery guy Jean had called earlier. Not exactly an elegant date, but Marco didn’t need elegance. He loved the rustic, bum lifestyle Jean held on the weekends, finding it comforting more than anything. Nights in like this were simplistic, raw, and more wonderful than any night out Marco ever wanted. Sure getting drunk at the finest pubs in Boston was always a plus, when he and Jean decided to get sloshy and make out on the sticky, beer-laden dance floor. Both he and Jean knew, though, that all they needed was food, beer, and an intimate togetherness to make one another happy.

 

Soon enough Marco and Jean settled into a droopy and beer-induced slumber, cuddling on the couch as Jean murmured occasional comments of protest and vain profanities about how the Bruins defense sucks and how they shouldn’t have traded Boychuck.

 

 ***

Jean woke to the sound of scribbling…What the heck? He rolled over in his cocoon of comforter to see Marco on the other side of the bed, legs drawn up and sketching something hurriedly on a piece of paper, backed by a hardcover book for support.

 

“Mmmmm Marco, what the fuck are you doing up this early?” To reaffirm his annoyance, Jean glanced with half-sleep and blurry vision at the clock on the nightstand closest to him. Sure enough: it read 6:45am. He redrew the comforter around himself and nuzzled Marco under his chin. “Come back to bed, Christ above.”

 

Marco rubbed his face in Jean’s fluffy dirty blond hair, smelling in his sweet scent, faintly of pine cones. “Mhmm I will in a minute, just lemme finish…”

 

“What are you doing anyway?” Jean poked his head up enough to see what Marco had been sketching.

 

The symbol looked peculiar to Jean: the drawing consisted of a roughly rectangular crest that bowed in at a slight angle at the bottom, but the majority of the space was occupied by a set of two wings, one black and one white, which overlapped in the middle of the crest.

 

“Just sketching this crest I saw in my dream last night.”

 

“What else do you remember of the dream?”

 

Marco shrugged and finished shading in the right wing, matching the rest of its black feathers. “Haha, not much, to be honest, Jean. All I remember clearly is this crest. Oh, and I think there was something about a wall in the background…”

 

Jean rolled back over, feigning going back to sleep. “A wall, huh? That’s not much to go off. Sounds vaguely surreal.”

 

“Mmmm, like I said, I don’t remember much, but it felt important.”

 

“Important how?” For once, given the early hour, Jean’s interest piqued in a slight manner. After all, he was awake, and Marco was definitely stubborn enough not to go back to sleep until he settled his mind.

 

Marco dealt him a straightforward half glare: he looked as if was at once trying to answer Jean as well as concentrate on remembering what were left of the dregs of his dream. “I don’t know,” he admitted, “It’s all fuzzy, but I do remember one distinct feeling.”

 

“And that was?”

 

Marco smirked in an innocent smile. “I felt free.”

 

*****

 

_“And you will live forever_

_In eyes not yet created_

_On tongues that are not born_

_I have written you down_

_Now you will live forever.”_


End file.
